Storm winds drowned only by sin, a wall of sounds infernally creative, ripping out the dendriform past and all his dander, a clearinghouse stomp, a randy drouth respite, sated satyr salaciousness 

Too hot for hades glade, gliding pterodactyl florida sinks, stinking of evangelical incest and bigoted bombast, cremations reassemble to scold the spines of stewards golfing on graves yet filled but soliciting dissonant referrals to lethe, a quagmire sopping flesh's fragile flower 

A raft or dugout log, a yacht, canoe or paper cup with a spork sail, get me leeward to sea, where 101 makes the starfish poach, the crabs cook, the alice inflate, the offshore platforms flimsy in siesta of regulation, billowing toxins to drown the clang of gavels resounding destruction 

A tempest in deliverance of confederated dimness, await await, hold fast this future for a rowing past, tamp down the cyclone synergy run amok, dicing nature for garnish, this garish grifting greed fueled coliseum of unheartedness will be undone.